The Bird Watch
by Haydron
Summary: No time travel. Dumbeldore drafts Hermione in, to take Tom Riddle down.
1. Three's the magic number

**OOOOO**

"Uncle Frank!"

Hermione raced up the patio, and lunged herself into an expectant hug. Frank picked her up with a "Hoho!" and twirled her around, so she was giggling and breathless.

"Is this where you live?"

She peered up at the cul-de-sac house, sitting on top of a hill, and overlooking the village of Little Hangleton. Uncle Frank was the gardener here, and trimmed the hedges and carved rose bushes out of thorns. It was the first time she was allowed to come up, usually being whisked away by her parents after a brief "hello."

But she had good news to deliver this time. After this summer, she was going to Hogwarts! Her parents were a little surprised - but didn't stand in her way when it came to spell books and cauldrons. Uncle Frank deserved to know. He usually wrote letters, asking about Hermione and inviting her over for the summer holidays.

"Not quite," Frank humorously pointed at a little shed, standing in the garden. "The Riddle's live over there, but I'm not far behind. Do you want to come and see inside? I've got a new teapot!"

"That's fantastic," the smile on her face died down. "But who is that boy, knocking on their door?"

**OOOOO**

The expression on Mrs Riddle's face was priceless, when she found a doppelganger of her son standing on her doorstep. She didn't know how to react. He clearly was a family relative, having inherited the "insanely handsome" genes, but couldn't be her son, because Tom was upstairs; shaving. Mrs Riddle opened and closed her mouth, before slamming the door shut, and hyperventilating nineteen to dozen.

"It's _her," _she wrung her hands. "It's _her _son."

"Mum," Tom stuck his head over the banister. "Who was that?"

The bell rung again, foolishly persistent and Tom started coming down the stairs, razor blade in hand. Mrs Riddle took a deep breath, and decided the boy outside needed to learn a valuable lesson. Yes, her son was hoodwinked by that hideous trollop and they ran away together - their bastard offspring was here to prove it - but he vehemently denied any affection for her once he returned. She had tricked him. Conned him. Became pregnant as a self-prophesising trap. But he didn't care about the bitch, or her son, and fled the moment his eyes reawakened for the first time in months.

"Come down here," Mrs Riddle barked. "Chase him away."

"Chase who away?" He was still coming down the steps.

"Him." She opened the door, just as Tom Jnr was levelling his wand with the door handle, preparing to blast it off it's hinges. Father and son came to a halt, gawking at each other, and the fierce resemblance that connected them. The younger Riddle got his act together first. He narrowed his eyes, and aimed the wand at his father's chest, hatred and contempt oozing out of his pores.

These people were _below _ him.

"Can I come inside?" He didn't wait, before taking a big step in.

His maternal grandmother edged away, towards the dining room, and Tom Snr was right behind, clinging to her like a big girl's blouse. Mr Riddle looked up from his broadsheet, just as his ashen wife sat in front of him, and Tom Snr joined them at the middle.

"What the -?"

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

"_Avada Kedavra!"_

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

Three generations of the Riddle family were wiped out in that room - including him- because out of these rubbles arose an even more fearsome opponent- Lord Voldemort.

**OOOOO**

Hermione woke up to terrible news on August 31st, the day before she boarded the train towards a new life. Uncle Frank was being questioned for not just a single or double murder, but a _triple _murder, that had everyone scratching their heads. How could three healthy hearts, simultaneously stop beating, without any visible deterioration in their bodies?

"How can I go," Hermione sat on the penultimate step, and put her chin in her hands. "When Uncle Frank's being accused of this horrible crime. He would never do something like that. _Never!"_

"Of course he wouldn't, sweetie," Mrs Granger put down her laundry basket, and sat down besides Hermione. "You worry too much, pet. Your uncle Frank will be acquitted, and we'll be there to support him." She gave a reassuring squeeze around her shoulders. "Just focus on school tomorrow. What's this Sorting Ceremony I keep hearing about?"

"Oh," it was like a light bulb going off. "It's brilliant! You walk into this hall…."

She spent the rest of the night, chattering about Hogwarts and all the lessons she was looking forwards too. She was obviously anxious about making new friends, but hoped a few good characters would come forward. Her talkative spell, was briefly broken by a "sleep" interlude, before she was up again, buzzing around the kitchen, getting under _all _their feet.

Eleven o'clock quickly approached.

"Bye mum! Bye dad!" she waved from the train door. "Give my love to Uncle Frank."

"We'll owl you his progress," they struggled to keep up, as the train was moving faster and faster. Hermione gave a brilliant grin, and reached out one last time before they stopped walking, and waved. She picked up her luggage bag from the floor, and started wheeling it down the compartments. Most of them were full, and didn't look chuffed that a 11-year-old wanted to share their fun.

"Strange."

One of the compartments was thrown in complete darkness, with the curtains drawn tight, and the glass turning suddenly reflective. Hermione was caught out by her reflection. A mad, bushy haired girl was standing in the middle of the aisle, verging on the skittery side. She stuck out her tongue, before sucking it in again, and decided pressing her nose against the glass was a brilliant idea.

This was met with giggles on the other side.

"Does she realize how stupid she looks?" Bellatrix lifted up a heavy lank of hair, and threw it over her shoulder. "What were you saying, Tom?"

Tom made sure not to react.

"My summer could've been better-" (_I made fantastic discoveries)- "_I would've much rather stayed at Hogwarts" -(_Luckily not this time. I could come and go as I pleased at the Orphanage)- "_And read up all sorts of things about it's History" -( _Yeah, there's a book for that. Books pale in comparison to the real thing.)- "_But I ended up doing nothing." He shrugged. (_I only killed my grandparents and father! Call that nothing?)_

"Oh," Bellatrix said with some level of disappointment. "I thought that triple murder at Little Hangleton had something to do with you. They pinned it on some crazy man, who confessed on the spot. What was his name? Marv- Morv-"

"Morfin Gaunt," Riddle said smoothly, touching his ring.

"That's right," Bellatrix remembered. "For Merlin's sake, that girl's irritating me!"

With a swish of her wand, the door to their compartment slid open, and Hermione fell headfirst into a pile of black polished shoes. It startled her greatly, to find six witches and wizards occupying all the seats, and looking ready to tear her limbs off.

"Five points deducted!"

"But-"

"Another five for talking back!"

Hermione bit her tongue, in order to stop physically shouting out about how unfair the situation was.

"What house are you in?"

Hermione shrugged.

"Oh, one of _those, _are we? Well, we'll be looking out for you in the Sorting Ceremony, little one."

"And pray you're not sorted in Slytherin!" A short, blond haired boy snorted, and quickly reigned himself in when the others stared at him.

"You too?" Hermione said eagerly. "Oh, Thank _God! _I think I'll just about cry if I get sorted into Slytherin. I'm hoping for Gryffindor. And if I'm not brave enough, maybe Ravenclaw."

The carriage descended into silence, as six heads stared at her, making Hermione nervous again. What? She had only voiced an opinion. Unless they were _all _Slytherins she didn't understand why they all looking so murderous. Everyone knew the Green & Silver house ran parallel with the Dark Arts, and had a knack for producing wizards that toed the edge.

"That's a bold statement," Abraxas raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you sit there, whilst I retrieve my wand-"

"Wait," Tom interrupted. "_Remember where we are."_

Bellatrix whined derisively.

"That's no fun!"

"This isn't about fun," he smiled down at the little girl, not worthy to touch his shoes. "Why don't you sit on my knee? I can show you an interesting game of Exploding Snap…."

**OOOOO**

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"That obnoxious meringue," Bellatrix had to be restrained to her chair, when Hermione skipped off to her favourite table, after placing the Hat back in it's rightful place on the cushioned stool. "We spent the entire train journey, entertaining a nosy busybody!"

"Calm down Bellatrix," he watched the Gryffindor table like a hawk. "We can't say it was exactly a surprise…no. This was for the best."

"For _who? _Tom, are you _mad?"_

The insides of his spine tickled, telling him to torture her until she begged for mercy. But he was still in the formation years of his "group"- and couldn't risk scaring anyone off yet, before they pledged their loyalty. Kind, helpful, generous Tom still existed- but he planned to drop that side of him very very soon.

"Bellatrix, cease that tone of voice immediately."

His voice wasn't threatening. But it was a crisp reminder that he could be.

"I'm sorry, Master," Bellatrix dropped her eyes, always the first in wanting to please him. Tom curtly cast his eyes down the table, and tried to register if there was any discomfort for the word "Master." He had only rolled out his preference last summer, and was still in it's tentative stages.

"Steady on Bellatrix," he said quietly. "There are teachers listening."

"You mean Dumbledork?" Bellatrix looked behind her, trying to be discreet, and caught Professor Dumbledore's eyes rightaway. He ran a finger around the rim of his goblet, as if he was contemplating something very hard. When he met Tom's very own dark stare, he raised the goblet in toast, and downed it in one go.

"Is he getting drunk?"

"Dumbledore never gets drunk," Tom said bitterly. "That will allow someone to creep past his defences. Childish, and pathetic as they are."

Tom reached out, and blindly raised up a goblet of his own. He didn't let their eyes disconnect, as he swallowed the contents whole, purposefully letting his ring flash under the candlelight. How fantastic to parade a family heirloom, Dumbledore would froth at the mouth to have. What made the moment even more poignant, was that Dumbledore didn't have a clue what the ring meant. He- _Lord Voldemort- _had killed.

Not once.

But-

"Three times," Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I get it. Can you stop reminding me how many times I've burrowed from you, Rodolfus? Merlin forbid, I marry you someday."

"I'm sorry," Rodolfus said meekly. "It's just that you have a flighty nature, Bellatrix. Any man would struggle to hold you down."

"Hold me -? Is this you, setting yourself up for a miserly death?"

"Unintentionally."

"You two should get a room," Abraxas broke in, leaning forwards and brushing a blond strand of his forehead. "All this sexual tension is ruining my palate."

"ABRAXAS!"

Bellatrix threw a panicked look sideways, as if to reassure Tom she had no sexual interest in the deviant. But Tom had further things on his mind, then Christmas Balls, and who got together with who…

It was time to step it up a gear.

**OOOOO**

**AN: Not your average Tomione. She's won't stay 11 forever by the way. And I want to stick to the original characters as much as possible. Tell me what you like, and don't like.**


	2. Cornered at the bottom of the library

**OOOOO**

Hermione was in her third year, when the illusion of the perfect Tom Riddle fell away. She had crept out past curfew, to return the library books she should've done during the day. As she was returning, a flicker in her peripheral vision lured her away down a long, dark corridor.

She stopped halfway, unsure whether to continue.

"You dare to call me Tom?" a voice hissed. "_Crucio!"_

The next few seconds were filled with an oppressive silence, until a big crashing sound made Hermione jump, and plaster herself against the wall.

"That was too loud," someone cursed, sticking their head out of the door. Thankfully Bellatrix didn't catch her blended in with the shadows, despite looking both ways, and shaking her head. "Filch might be coming any minute."

She turned back and witheringly stared at her fiancé. Rodolphus had unfortunately knocked over a table, whilst he was being tortured. A well-placed _Silencio _charm, had stopped the entire castle hearing his screams and rushing to investigate. Her Master lifted up his wand, and Rodolphus fell to the floor, gasping like a fish left out of it's tank.

"Have you learned your lesson?"

"Y-Yes Master! I-I am sorry, Master!"

"Don't make our Lord regret the serpent he gave you," Bellatrix warned, referring to the Dark Mark that coiled up the arms of his most devoted, reverent followers. Rodolphus nodded, turning his head, so nobody could see the red hot tears of agony that slipped down his cheeks.

"Well I think that's all for now," Tom said cheerily, suddenly turning into a person completely opposite to the one they glimpsed just moments before. The slight twinkle was back, replacing the bottomless pits that framed his skull.

With a little bit of non-verbal magic, the desk righted itself, and Tom swept out of the class in order to continue with his Head-Boy duties. He had cleared four corridors, when he caught the vision of someone's back fleeing the corner.

This immediately caught his attention.

"You there!" he barked. "Stop!"

Hermione had one foot on the stairs, staring up at the long flight with something akin to resignation. She waited until the footsteps caught up with her, and meekly turned around, ready to burst into tears.

"Hermione!"

The voice was surprised, and Hermione looked up to see her most favourite prefect, staring down at her with curiosity written all over his face. He was the Tom Riddle that allowed her to sit on his knee, and comforted her when she got a little homesick. She even secretly fancied him. It was kind of hard to ignore the hype, when all the girls in her year, swooned and melted when they pictured his dark, shiny hair and tall, lean frame….

"What are you doing here?"

With a rush of fear, Hermione remembered the whisper of a torturing spell and Bellatrix sticking her head out of the door. Tom's nose twitched, almost as if he could sense her unease. She wanted to go back to bed. She should never, EVER, have turned her back against the Fat Lady and walked away…

"I wanted to return a book," Hermione whispered, staring at the floor.

"At this hour?" Riddle peered at her suspiciously. "That's against school rules. I need to dock fifty points, Miss Granger."

"Okay."

"And I need to refer you to a head of house. Professor Dumbledore isn't going to be very pleased."

"I imagine not."

"You may go."

He watched with cold eyes, as Hermione turned tail, and skipped up the stairs as fast as she could, and disappear down a corridor. From behind, Bellatrix removed her disillusionment charm and came level with the Dark Lord's shoulders. They both continued staring up the stairs, even though Hermione was long gone.

"Do you believe her?"

"Not one iota."

**OOOOO**

"Welcome," the transfiguration teacher said happily the following night, when Hermione came in through the door. "Just on time for your detention! Would you like to know what it is?"

"But-" Hermione dropped her jaw. "Don't you want to hear-"

"No," Dumbledore shook his head, with unabashed coyness. "Not yet. I think you should meet Hagrid first. You two will get on like a hut on fire." This provided a chuckle, that Hermione didn't know the basis too.

"Right," Hermione said slowly. "Where do I meet him?"

"Oh. The front foyer will do! Get along now."

Hermione sent him a reproachful look, and didn't enjoy how dark the outside looked as she walked out of the classroom, and made her way down. A hairy beast was waiting for her in the foyer, and she was a little squeamish approaching him. Especially since he was wolfing down rock cakes, much to the establishment's disgust.

"You must be Hagrid," she quickly darted out, and offered her hand.

Hagrid looked down at it, wiped his hand on the ruffles of his shirt, and pumped it vigorously up and down. His grip was weirdly reassuring, and there was no malice when he offered her a rock cake.

"He's a beauty!" Hermione beamed, once they were clear of the castle ,and Hagrid whistled for a dusky greyhound to come whirring out of the undergrowth. He slobbered over them both, before joining them for the remainder of the path to the Gamekeeper's Hut.

"This is my detention?" Hermione was dumbstruck. She seated herself tentatively by the fireplace, and watched five sausages sizzling in the heat. Hagrid was moving around his "kitchen" area, preparing some tea. "But I couldn't ask for a nicer time! Did Dumbledore really mean this?"

"He wanted us ter talk," Hagrid put a hot mug of tea on the table, so she wouldn't scald herself. Nevermind he burnt a few fingers in the process. "There's a lot to get through, apparently."

"I can't believe this!" she repeated. "What a detention!"

She noticed Hagrid struggling with the five sausages in the fireplace. He wasn't summoning them with a wand like she expected, but using his fingers and gritted teeth. Without saying anything, she neatly ordered the sausages to line themselves on a plate. They were deliciously cooked.

"So that Tom Riddle sent yer?" he spoke up suddenly.

"Yes," Hermione was very quiet. "Do you know him?"

"Who-er doesn't," Hagrid said bitterly. "He was the reason, I got excluded. I was in my third yer, like you," he sniffed.

"No! What happened?"

"The yer before you came, a merder got pinned on me. Some first-yer carked it in the bathroom, and they blamed _Aragog."_

"Aragog? Who's _Aragog?"_

"A spider. Anywey, that Tom Riddle started stalking me and he wouldn't rest unteel he caught the both of us together. Only Dumbledore saved me from Azkerban."

"A spider?" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "How could a spider possibly kill a person, unless it had a venomous bite? They're not very common in Britain."

"That's not ther point!" Hagrid jabbed a meaty finger, into the brunt of his table. "I know that Riddle tried to save his own sorry behind! He's the merderer! Not me!"

Hermione forced herself to stay quiet, and run through what Hagrid just said. Was she honestly surprised with these allegations? Dumbledore was a teacher she respected greatly, and he wouldn't send her here without a reason. The fact that he helped Hagrid escape Azkaban, didn't escape Hermione's notice. He thought Hagrid wasn't guilty. He clearly wanted Hermione to feel the same.

And she was starting too.

The more time she spent with Hagrid, the more obvious it became he wasn't the murderer. What did that mean? Did that mean, the highly sought after Head-Boy whom she idolized, was nothing more than a liar? She hadn't spent a lot of time with him, due to their age gap and different houses. It wouldn't be hard to fool someone, who was looking in from the outside, that they were a hard-working, fair student.

Perhaps Tom Riddle was the biggest hypocrite to walk the halls of Hogwarts.

Again Hermione shuddered, her escapade from the night previous, just on the tip of falling out of her tongue. But that would be too easy. And the knock-on effect would ensure, that she would never act normally around him in the future.

Dumbledore was waiting for her when she got back.

"Was that detention enlightening?"

"It certainly was an eye-opener."

"And do you still consider Tom Riddle as a friend? Would you trust him with your life?"

Hermione looked at him sharply.

"That would be saying too much."

"I understand," Dumbledore nodded, falling into step besides her. "He is a charming young man, who uses his presence to wheedle information from even the most guarded of hearts. You have not lived long enough to be of any use to him, Miss Granger, but he will put the fact you're in Gryffindor to good use. Be wary."

"He doesn't believe I'm a muggle," Hermione was opening up. Who said Tom Riddle was the master manipulator? Ten minutes with Dumbledore, and she was discussing her deepest concerns. "He thinks I'm a Half-Blood at least, because I have a good command over magic. I don't know how else to convince him."

She came to a stop, and Dumbledore did too, because at this junction they would have to part ways and head either up or down. Dumbledore was surveying her with mild concern, his hands clasped behind his back like a stern schoolteacher. "Don't try to convince him anymore. Doing so, will only increase your peril."

_Professor!_ She wanted to ask. _Does that mean he's a threat to society?_

But the answer she would receive, frightened her so implicitly, that Hermione didn't utter a word until Dumbledore bowed his head in acknowledgement, and left her to gather her thoughts alone in the corridor.

**OOOOO**

A week later, Hermione was perusing one of the more less explored aisles in the library, when she ran into Tom Riddle waiting at the end for her. She came up short, not knowing how to react. The old Hermione would greet him, and ask for a recommendation to improve her knowledge.

But the seeds of doubt were planted now, and Hermione reluctantly edged out a "Hello."

"Hermione," he smiled. "How was detention?"

"Fitting for the crime," she retorted.

Tom threw back his head and laughed. It was a dark laugh that Hermione didn't really notice before, that made hairs stand on end, and prey prick up their ears and take notice.

"What are _you _doing?" she asked, turning the tables. She noticed a book in his hand, that looked on the verge of falling apart, and detailed the lost artefacts that belonged to each house.

"Reading," he replied humorously. "Maybe you can help me. Do you know anything about Godric Gryffindor's sword?"

Alarm bells started ringing in Hermione's head, even though the honest answer was _no. _Was he putting the fact that she was in Gryffindor to good use, like Dumbledore said? Tom was still talking, but she was noticing little things that evaded her before, like the hungry glaze over his eyes. The stilted eagerness that appeared, only when he talked about objects that were related to power.

He was watching her now. Narrowed eyes. Accomplished legimens.

"I'm only a third-year," she said weakly. "I don't know anything."

**OOOOO**

**AN: Thank you to my one reviewer- Hermione Voldemort Riddle! What about the rest of you? :P **


End file.
